


The Flagstone

by Twelvefootmountaintroll



Series: Seven Stones [5]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Broh Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twelvefootmountaintroll/pseuds/Twelvefootmountaintroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Iroh asks Bolin on a date—maybe? You know, it was really unclear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flagstone

**Author's Note:**

> Days five and six prompts: Charming and oblivious.

One spring evening a couple months after Iroh left to resume his naval duties finds Bolin standing in front of a high-society restaurant with a note squeezed in his fingers and the faintest of butterflies flitting in his stomach.

_Go to Liu’s at half past seven. Don’t worry; everything has been arranged._

It had come with Iroh’s latest letter. Does that mean he’s going to be back in Republic City? And what does he mean by “everything has been arranged”?

Bolin discovers the answer to the last question when he steps inside and shows his note to the host, who promptly whisks him away to a side room. There, he’s unceremoniously stripped of his (admittedly pathetic) attempt at formal dress and carefully maneuvered into attire suited to the atmosphere, and doesn’t this all seem suspiciously similar to how Mako got to know Asami? The butterflies start fluttering a bit more.

Apparently another part of those “arrangements” was a private room in the back, which Bolin is led to.

“Iroh! You are back after all!” he cries.

An brief expression of pain crosses Iroh’s face. “Yes, and I’m trying to keep it a secret for the moment to avoid two weeks of diplomatic nonsense with every ambitious mid-level bureaucrat in the city.”

“Oops. Sorry.” Hug or handshake? Hug or handshake? _I’m a hugger_ , Bolin decides. _It’s who I am_. He goes for it.

Apparently Iroh is a hand-shaker, which results in some brief embarrassment. “Please, sit.”

“So why me?” Bolin asks.

“I’m sorry?”

“Why invite me if you’re trying to keep your presence a secret? You must know all the big names in the city—the Earth Kingdom royalty, and the leaders of industry, and the Council members, right?”

“I’m not quite the celebrity you seem to think I am,” Iroh says. “But, I suppose—well, you’re easy to be around. No constant political motives or kowtowing. It’s nice.”

“I have been told I make great company.” Bolin looks around. “Wow. I’ve never been someplace so fancy. Do you eat here a lot?”

“It’s my favorite restaurant. I give them my patronage, and they give me private rooms and sealed lips.”

“Boy, you really don’t want word of this to get around, do you? ‘Sealed lips.’ I feel like I’m on a secret mission. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Mako where I was going.”

Iroh looks uncomfortable. “I haven’t ordered the food yet. Are you ready to eat?”

“I’m always ready to eat. Bring on the grub.”

Iroh rings a small bell sitting in the middle of the table. A waiter appears almost immediately.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Yes. I think I’ll have the usual. It’s been a while.”

“Very good. And for your guest?”

“Bolin, what do you like?” Iroh studies him intently.

“I’ll eat anything! You can’t be picky on the streets and old habits die hard.”

“He’ll have the same,” Iroh says. The waiter nods and slips away.

“Sometimes I forget...” he continues, almost to himself.

“What? That I used to live on the streets?”

“No, not that. Just that it’s rare to find wisdom and bravery in someone so young.”

“Wisdom? Me?” Bolin smiles. “You really think so?”

“Of course. You remember what you said to me that night on Air Temple Island? About pebble-ness?”

“Now you’re just poking fun! You think you’re so wise, old man?”

“I’m not that old,” Iroh says ruefully. His hand slips into his pocket absentmindedly.

Bolin nearly asks _How old are you, anyway?_ , but he decides he probably shouldn’t ask questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to. Instead, he gestures at the hand Iroh has in his pocket.

“What do you have there, General?”

“Oh, it’s, uh. It’s nothing.” Then, with a sheepish smile, he takes his hand out and displays it to Bolin.

“A rock?”

“A pebble,” Iroh corrects.

Bolin beams. “I can’t believe you saved that!”

“Of course I did. I told you, you’re a very wise young man, Bolin. I couldn’t have gotten through that next day without your advice.” _And now he’s a ‘young man’ instead of a ‘boy,’ is he?_ Iroh asks himself. He wishes he could shake his head and clear the thoughts away.

“I’m like a regular military advisor. Say, do you think you could hire me so I could come with you the next time you leave? I’d love to get away from Republic City for a while.”

The waiter chooses this moment to reappear with their food. Iroh suspects they had started preparing his dishes the moment he walked into the restaurant. It may have been a while since he had been there, but it had also been a while since he’d ordered anything other than “the usual.”

“Bon appetite.”

Bolin digs into his food with a gusto Iroh has rarely seen, even given his extensive time spent in military canteens, and certainly with an energy he had never appreciated in the same way. It would almost seem a waste of the gourmet cuisine of the restaurant were it not for how deeply appreciative Bolin seems for every bite.

“This is amazing. Aren’t you going to eat, Iroh? I thought you said this was your favorite place.”

“I’m simply... admiring your fervor,” Iroh says as he picks up his chopsticks. It occurs to him that, living on the streets, Bolin likely had rarely had the opportunity to admire food before eating it.

“Why, thank you, sir,” Bolin says in between bites. “I always said that if pro-bending didn’t pan out, I was going to become a professional eater, instead.”

“How has your pro-bending training been going?”

“We’re on a hiatus right now.” Bolin finishes his dish and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve actually been getting into earth-healing.”

“Earth-healing?” Iroh is only a couple bites into his dish.

“Yeah! Well, usually it’s just basic stuff like repairing roads that have been torn up, especially by earthbenders. But sometimes the foundation of a building starts to crack or a bridge needs some maintenance. It’s a more delicate side of earthbending. And speaking of roads that have been torn up—”

Bolin pulls a chipped piece of stone out of his pocket. “This is part of a flagstone that Mr Sato used to pave his runways. They had me repair them, since I knew best how to fix my own damage. Asami has started to research non-military applications for the airplanes.”

He hands it to Iroh. “Amazing how something great can come from something horrible, isn’t it?”

Later, they step out the back door together to go their separate ways. The sky is overcast, but stars peek through here and there. The chill has lost its edge and the air is refreshingly cool and sweet.

“Bolin—” Iroh says, just as Bolin starts, “Iroh.”

“Um—when are you going to be back in town?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’ll tell me when you are, right? I bet I could show you some places your high society card doesn’t get you in. Not that this restaurant wasn’t fantastic!”

Iroh nods. “Definitely.”

And, after a momentary pause, he puts his hand on Bolin’s shoulder. “I really enjoy your company, Bolin. I want you to know that.”

For a second, Bolin doesn’t feel either brave or wise. “Thanks, General.”

In the alley behind the restaurant, Iroh’s eyes are dark but for the ephemeral twinkling of the stars, giving them life but keeping his thoughts hidden. He seems to hesitate again. Then he nods.

“Well, goodnight, Bolin.”

“Goodnight.”

Bolin watches him go with clenched fists.


End file.
